the same sweater in different colors, the same gloves, the same socks.
She was surprised at how quickly it went, buying piles of books at the bookstore, not caring who got what, just knowing that there’d be something to wrap. She had to buy for Cleo this year, who was coming for Christmas, but that just meant buying more duplicates. All of the shopping was done in one day, with Weezy making a few trips to the car in between.
When she pulled into the driveway after her shopping trip, she left all the bags in the car, poured herself a glass of wine, and got into her bed in her pajamas. It was five thirty. When Will found her, she was watching TV and had the comforter pulled up to her chin.
“I’m not feeling well,” she said. Will looked at the glass of wine and nodded, then let her rest for the night.
Weezy spent her time in bed on the laptop, looking up information on weddings where the bride was pregnant. There were many tips. Ruching seemed to be a popular way to hide the stomach, although it didn’t really look like it worked that well. There were some brides that decided to wait until after the baby was born, some that waited years and then had the child as a ring bearer or flower girl. (Which just seemed downright trashy.) She wondered what it would take to convince Max and Cleo that they should get married. She scoured the sites for tips and tricks, and thought at least they weren’t the first couple to get themselves into this mess.
SHE HAD NO IDEA HOW she was going to manage to have everyone home for three days. That was all it was going to be, but it seemed impossible. She could fake sick, she thought, if things got really bad. It would be like the year that she had gotten the stomach flu and could barely make it downstairs for twenty minutes to watch the kids open their presents. They’d all eaten breakfast without her, gone to mass without her, and she’d stayed upstairs in bed, watching old movies.
Weezy felt safer that she had a backup plan. No one could argue with a sick person, and it wouldn’t even be like she was lying. She was sick. She just didn’t know what she had.
Somehow she managed to make it through. Will and the girls had helped with the cooking and while she had imagined that this year, the days would go on forever, it was like any other year and Christmas seemed to be over in a flash.
Now she could rest. She imagined sleeping all day, not having to shop or decorate. This is what her life would be like from now on. It was like she’d aged twenty years in the past month.
But then, after Christmas, things changed. She woke up one morning with her heart pounding, thinking of all the things that had to be done. And instead of feeling tired, she felt full of energy. She drank a pot of coffee each morning, and darted around the house, cleaning and organizing.
Claire told her that she had to slow down. Actually what she said was, “Mom, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” But Weezy couldn’t stop. She sent out an e-mail to all of her friends, telling them that Max’s girlfriend was pregnant and that she hoped they could all be happy for the family, even if things were happening a little out of order.
Weezy knew that they were all giving each other looks behind her back, but she didn’t have time to deal with them. There was too much to do, too much to figure out.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Maureen said. She raised her eyebrows and waited for Weezy to say something.
“Thanks. Me too,” she said.
Will continued on through his days like nothing had happened. “What do you want me to do?” he asked Weezy. “It’s happened and we’re dealing with it.”
But they weren’t dealing with anything—Weezy was dealing with all of it. She made the plans and ran them by Max, who ran them by Cleo, and then she told Will what was going to happen.
“They’ll be moving back here at the end of the school year,” she told Will. It had taken weeks to convince Max that this was the right thing to do, but she’d done it.
“That’s a good idea,” Will said. And that was all.
Will spent almost all of his time in